


Desperados

by madsthenerdygirl



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, BAMF Jessica, BAMF Lucy, Flynn is Trash Yet Again, Fun Fact Cowboys Were Mostly POC and Queer, Insert Louis L'Amour-Goran-Practical Magic Joke Here, Jiya is So Beyond Done with this Bullshit, Magnificent Seven Meet the Disaster Six, Multi, Take That White Hetero Bullshit Out of My Westerns, Wyatt Logan's Bisexuality Crisis, Wyatt and Flynn Have Crushes On Each Other and They're Mad About It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 17:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19468267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsthenerdygirl/pseuds/madsthenerdygirl
Summary: There’s only one rule in the west: the ones who come up on top are the ones desperate enough to try anything.





	Desperados

It was supposed to be for Mother’s health.

Lucy stared up at the unforgiving blue sky. How she’d loved that sky when she’d first seen it, out away from the city as a part of the wagon trail. How she hated it now, so blue and beautiful but empty, too wide, not a cloud in it.

It felt like the sky was showing her the future—her future. Big, blue, emptiness.

She stumbled and fell, and didn’t have the strength to get back up again.

The hard, caked earth was hot against her cheek. She would’ve cried, if she’d had any water left in her to make tears.

They were supposed to go west for Mother’s health. To make Mother better. Now Mother was gone and Amy—Amy—

Lucy croaked, trying to form her sister’s name, as if that would’ve helped. The whole wagon trail was dead. Just her. And Amy, being dragged off, screaming—screaming for Lucy—

At some point her eyes must have closed, because she managed to crack them open as a pair of black boots appeared in front of her.

Someone lifted her up, murmuring in a language she didn’t know, a language oddly melodic, moving up and down like the ocean.

Water was gently dropped into her mouth, bit by bit, so that she wouldn’t choke. Then she was set on a horse, and a firm arm was wrapped around her—she turned her face, burying it into the person’s chest so that she could hide from the sun, inhaling the warm leather-and-coffee scent of them—

And that was all she knew until she woke up in the saloon.

* * *

Wyatt walked in, following Denise. “Who is she?” Denise asked.

“We don’t know,” Mason, the saloon owner, replied. An Englishman, Mason projected a sort of class that made him seem nearly out of place in the small town of Lifeboat, if it weren’t for his paternal air towards everyone. “She was just on the porch this morning. Jiya found her, Rufus and I got her upstairs—she was nearly dead from dehydration.”

“How’d she get here?”

“Someone must’ve helped her.” Mason led the sheriff and her deputy upstairs. “She had a few minor bullet wounds that were patched up, and her sunburn treated. And she certainly didn’t walk here in her state.”

He led them down the hall and pushed open the door to one of the rooms.

Lying on the bed was a beautiful dark-haired woman, all sharp angles from her elbows to her feet to her cheekbones, wearing dusty, torn clothes and with chapped lips and skin just on the cusp of shifting from sunburn-red to deeply-tanned brown.

Wyatt’s heart stopped for just a second.

“She’s been sleeping straight through,” Mason said. “But she doesn’t seem—I think she’ll wake up.”

Denise walked over and checked the woman’s forehead for a fever. “She seems all right, just exhausted and in need of water. I don’t think we’ll need Michelle.”

Michelle was Denise’s… well, if someone from out of town had asked, Wyatt would’ve said they were good friends, raising a couple of orphans nobody wanted, you know how found families develop in these lonesome parts.

But to the townsfolk, Michelle was Denise’s wife. She’d learned medicine on the Civil War battlefields. She wasn’t a certified doctor but she was the best they had, and she was a damn sight better than most quacks Wyatt had run into.

Denise gently shook the woman’s shoulder.

She had barely touched her when the woman’s eyes flew open and she let out a piercing scream.

Denise jumped back and Wyatt’s hand flew automatically to his gun at his hip before he relaxed. “Jesus Christ.”

The woman was panting, her eyes darting around. “Amy,” she croaked. “Where’s—Amy—”

“We don’t have an Amy here,” Wyatt said.

The woman sat up and Denise put her hands on her shoulders to steady her. “Whoa, there. I’m Sheriff Christopher. That there’s my deputy, Wyatt Logan, and this here is Connor Mason, he owns the saloon you’re staying in.”

“Saloon?” The woman’s brow creased in confusion. “No, no, I was in the desert—with the wagons—please, Amy, my sister, you have to help her—”

“What’s your name?”

“Lucy, Lucy Preston—you can ask the man who found me, someone found me, he picked me up—please, my sister—”

“Miss Preston, we can’t help you until we know some more about your circumstances. We found you—or rather Mason’s saloon girl found you—on the front porch half dead. That’s all we know of you.”

“Have some water,” Wyatt suggested, grabbing the pitcher and a glass from the bedside dresser. That helped him when he was having a PTSD attack. It forced him to breathe regularly again.

That had been Jess’s idea, actually. She’d always known how to help him.

Lucy took the water and sipped it slowly. “My sister and I were traveling with our mother. The doctors said that going west would help with her health. She said she had a place for us, but she died on the way, and we stopped to bury her—not far from here—and we were attacked by a… a group of some kind. They called themselves Rittenhouse.”

Wyatt dropped the jug of water. It rolled on the floor, spilling all over their feet.

“Sorry,” he blurted out, crouching down to fix it. “Sorry, sorry.”

“You know them?” Lucy asked. She reached for him, grabbing his shoulder. “They took Amy, they took my sister—”

“Yeah, and they took my wife,” Wyatt said, his voice coming out more sharply than he’d intended. “I’m sure you can guess how her story ended.”

Wyatt had never seen Jess again after the attack. He’d wanted to go after her, but Denise had insisted it would only be a suicide mission. Wyatt hadn’t cared—had wanted to join Jess in death, if that was how it ended—wanted her to at least, maybe, get a chance to see that he had come, that he had tried to help her—but Denise and Rufus had insisted he see reason. Lifeboat was enough on the edge of civilization as it was, it didn’t need to lose one of the only two lawmen it had.

“Rittenhouse is… a problem,” Denise said, gently releasing Lucy’s fingers from around Wyatt’s shoulder and sitting her back down. “We’re not sure how it started, only that we’re caught in the middle. They own a large cattle ranch to the south of the town, and they’ve been buying up land strategically to make some kind of… cattle driving empire, as far as we can make it.”

“Rumor has it they used Confederate money,” Mason said. “But that can’t be confirmed unless you speak to them and, well, they’re not all that keen on speaking.”

“They harass caravans coming west,” Denise explained. “But they’ve only ever taken one person before now. And we’re not even sure that was them.”

“It was Rittenhouse,” Wyatt spat, standing up. He knew it, he knew they’d done it. No one else in town would do something like that.

“Why’d they take Amy?”

Wyatt opened his mouth to say _why do you think_ but Mason kicked him in the shin.

“What I mean is,” Lucy said, “they knew her name. Miss Preston, they called her. How could they know her name? That means—it’s not just—you know. And if it was just for—well they would take me too, wouldn’t they? But they didn’t. They just left me out there.”

Denise sighed. “Whatever their reasons, we don’t have the men to challenge them.”

“So you’re just going to cower here in your little township,” Lucy said.

Wyatt had to hold in a snort.

Denise sighed. “I’m the Sheriff. I have to protect the people of this town. Going in on a suicide mission would only leave them defenseless. I have to think of them. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like. Mason could always use another girl to run the bar if you need a job. But I cannot help you go after Rittenhouse. I’m sorry.”

She got up and looked at Mason. “Any bills she racks up, give them to me, I’ll pay them.”

Wyatt knew that Denise wasn’t made of money, and that Mason would probably cover the bills himself or at least give a sizeable discount.

Denise strode out the door. “Wyatt, I’ve got to check up on the Wells Fargo wagon that’s supposed to be coming today, do a quick sweep of the alleys for any wayward drunks, but I’ll be at the bank if you need me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Wyatt nodded at Mason as he exited, then turned to Lucy. “Ma’am?”

“We’re the same age,” Lucy told him, looking rather cross at this whole thing. “There’s no need to call me that.”

“Um, yes, well. Miss Preston?”

“Lucy will do fine.” Lucy stood up. “Mr… Wyatt, was it?”

“Yes.”

“You lost your wife to Rittenhouse. Surely you can understand—surely, you can do something—”

“Ma—Lucy, I can’t just go behind the back of my sheriff. The last time I tried that I nearly died in the desert and then Denise just about tanned my hide when I got home.”

“But with the two of us—I’m not an expert with a gun and all but I’ve learned quickly, on the wagon trail. I can handle myself. And Rittenhouse has hurt others, I’m sure. They’d be willing to help, wouldn’t they?”

Wyatt knew of one person who would definitely want to get back at Rittenhouse, but Wyatt would rather use a branding iron on his ass than tell Lucy about him. “Everyone’s scared of Rittenhouse, Lucy, you have to understand that. They’ve got all the land and all the money, they’ve beaten people up, they’ve killed women and children.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Lucy hissed. “They murdered my entire wagon trail. I’m the only survivor besides my sister. I’m just grateful my mother was already dead so she didn’t have to live to see that happen to her daughters. But I’m not letting it make me afraid. Are you?”

Wyatt swallowed. Damn. Lucy Preston was a firecracker. And it was a chance to avenge Jess, to avenge everyone. “I know of someone who could help us get there. He knows the desert. We’ll see what he says.”

Lucy softened. “Thank you.”

Wyatt nodded. “You’re lucky I’m a sucker for a dame telling me what to do,” he warned her.

Lucy gave him a playful smirk. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Oh, he was in trouble.

* * *

Wyatt had Lucy wait at the bar on the first floor of the saloon while he fetched his friend. In the meantime, Lucy chatted with the bartender, a half-Pawnee woman named Jiya.

“Yeah, I was raised here in town, but I’d go back for big important celebrations and stuff, and for my coming-of-age ceremony and all that.” Jiya grabbed some bottles to take to one of the gambling tables. “And no, we don’t scalp people.”

“…I wasn’t going to ask about that.”

“Mmhmm,” Jiya hummed disbelievingly, and then went to the table, carrying the beer.

Wyatt entered the bar, a tall black man coming in behind him, a tool bag slung over his shoulder.

One of the men at the gambling table reached for something—a beer, or his knife, or Jiya’s ass, Lucy honestly couldn’t be sure which it was—while swearing violently.

Jiya grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it, slamming his face into the table with her other hand, forcing his arm and wrist back until Lucy feared it would snap.

“You try that again, you lose it,” Jiya snapped. It was obvious from the way she twisted his wrist a little more what ‘it’ was.

“Yes, yes Miss Jiya, ma’am, sorry ma’am,” the man replied.

Jiya released him with a disgusted look and then walked back over to Lucy. “Can you teach me that?” Lucy asked.

Jiya snorted. “Yeah, sure, I guess.” She looked behind Lucy and sighed. “You with Wyatt?”

“Yes? Is… is something wrong?”

“No, not really, other than the usual white male bullshit.” Jiya shrugged. “He had a bad falling out with a friend of mine and I don’t really take kindly to people who fall out with my friends. But he’s not, y’know, malicious. Just misguided, I think, and stubborn.”

Wyatt sat down next to Lucy. “Lucy, this is my friend Rufus Carlin. He’s sort of the jack of all trades around here. Rufus, this is Lucy Preston.”

Jiya’s attitude changed immediately from surly and done-with-everything to smiling and soft. “Hey, Rufus.”

It was hard to tell, with how dark his skin was, but Lucy was ninety percent certain that Rufus was blushing. “Hey, Jiya. How’s that new beer pump working out for you?”

“Like a charm. Hey, you want anything? On the house.”

“Ah, I couldn’t… Mason would…”

“Mason loves you, Rufus, he won’t mind. Anything you want.”

Rufus mumbled out that a whiskey, neat, would be fine, thanks, and then he sat down on Lucy’s other side. “So, Wyatt told me you need some kind of guide who knows the desert?”

Lucy nodded. “I need to get to Rittenhouse ranch.”

Jiya nearly dropped the whiskey bottle. “What do you need to get there for?”

“They kidnapped my sister,” Lucy replied. “And I aim to get her back.”

“Only the desperate and the dumb go up against Rittenhouse,” Rufus pointed out.

“Then what am I?” Wyatt asked.

“Both,” Jiya and Rufus chorused.

Wyatt flipped them both off.

“You can’t take Rufus’s route,” Jiya said, bracing her hands on the counter. “He’ll take you around through the front. Rittenhouse will see you.”

“But if we go around through the back canyons, that’s Pawnee territory,” Rufus countered. “We’ll be shot on sight.”

“Mm, if only you had a guide who could get you through there…” Jiya replied, tapping her finger on the bar top.

“Jiya, c’mon, I can’t ask that of you. You should stay here where it’s safe.”

“That’s very sweet, Rufus, and just a little misogynistic.”

“She just nearly broke a man’s arm,” Lucy pointed out. “I think she can handle herself.”

“She knows her way around a gun better than you do, Rufus,” Wyatt added.

“Well if you’re serious about going after Rittenhouse,” Jiya said, “then you’ll want to get Flynn.”

Lucy raised her eyebrows. “Flynn?”

Wyatt groaned and rested his forehead on the bar top. “No. No Flynn.”

“Oh, shut up, Wyatt,” Jiya said, and Lucy suspected she now knew which ‘friend’ it was that Wyatt’d had a falling out with. “Just because you’ve got a stick up your ass about him—”

“Jiya, the man is a lunatic—”

“If he’s a lunatic who will get me Rittenhouse,” Lucy said, “I want him.”

Jiya and Wyatt glared at each other.

Rufus leaned into Lucy. “Four years ago, when Rittenhouse first got here, Flynn got onto their territory. They killed his wife and five-year-old daughter. He went on a killing spree, only stopped after Rittenhouse started taking it out on us and Jess was murdered. Now he lives up in this cabin in the middle of nowhere, near the canyon. Only Jiya and Wyatt know where it is.”

“How do they know?”

“Jiya’s friends with him, and Wyatt… was there, for a while. Before he and Flynn had this big fight.”

“Fine,” Wyatt said, apparently having lost his staring contest with Jiya. “We’ll go and talk to Flynn. Get ready for the door to get slammed in your face, though.”

They rode out into the desert, up to the edge of the canyons where the red rocks rose forebodingly into the sky, and then up a thin hidden rail to a small cabin.

Wyatt regaled her the whole way with stories from back in the war, and from some ranching work he'd done before settling with Jess in the small town, and some misadventures with Rufus, making Lucy laugh. Wyatt was… soft. He brought out a softness in her, too, one that she'd almost forgotten, struggling to get west, taking care of her dying mother and keeping her eye on her wayward sister.

But once the cabin was in sight, Wyatt fell quiet.

Lucy slipped off the saddle and approached the cabin, fully prepared for someone to shoot at her feet to ward her off, until she reached the front porch and could knock.

The door was not slammed in Lucy’s face.

It was opened by a tall, older man with deep lines—lines that suggested not just hardship, but grief. She knew a little about that.

“Marshal Flynn?” she asked. “I’m Lucy Preston. I was hoping… hoping for some help?”

Flynn stared at her for a long moment, his dark eyes searching all over her face, as if trying to read into the very heart of her. “Help with what?” he asked.

“What do you think, dipshit?” Wyatt asked.

Flynn leaned further out to see Jiya, Rufus, and Wyatt behind Lucy. “Jiya, pleasure as always.”

“Sorry about this guy,” Jiya said, elbowing Wyatt. “He’s insisted on helping Lucy.”

“Rufus, long time no see.”

“Hey, Flynn.”

Flynn ignored Wyatt outright to look back to Lucy. “What do you all need?”

“May we come in?”

Flynn flicked his gaze back over to Wyatt, then looked at her. He seemed… familiar to her, in a way that she couldn’t place.

For a moment she thought he wouldn’t let them in, but then he stepped back, opening the door wider.

Lucy entered, wiping off her boots. The other three followed. Wyatt and Flynn, she noticed, kept a careful distance from each other.

“My sister has been taken,” Lucy said. “By Rittenhouse.”

Flynn raised his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t hold out much hope for your sister.”

“She’s alive,” Lucy hissed. “We Prestons aren’t so easy to kill.”

Flynn looked amused at that, for some reason. “And why do you need me?”

“You scared them. You were after them and you got to them, I need you to do it again. With me. I need another gun.”

Flynn drew his hands behind his back. “Looks like you’ve got three reliable people with you.”

“And Rittenhouse will have at least a dozen. That’s how many came after me and my wagon trail. I was the only survivor, and that was luck and a good Samaritan.” Lucy folded her arms, raising an eyebrow. “And don’t you pretend that you aren’t itching to finish what you started.”

“I’m not going to go partnering with people who will be ill prepared and get us all killed. It’s already fifty percent a suicide mission, I’d rather not up my chances to getting killed to one hundred percent.”

Wyatt made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like he was strangling whatever words he wanted to let out.

Lucy ignored him. “I’m not the kind of person who shoots from the hip.”

“You think that you can just waltz in here and ask me for help and I’ll give it?” Flynn asked. “I prayed to God for answers, for a way to avenge my family. I have had to make peace with the fact that I never will.”

“And what if He led me to you?” Lucy countered. “What if I’m how you get your vengeance? A random woman showing up at your doorstep, doesn’t get more Biblical and out of the blue than that, don’t you think?”

Flynn looked at her for a long moment, and Lucy realized she’d gotten up in his face to the point where he had to crane his neck a little to look down at her.

She stepped back, away from the heat of him. “I’m going, with or without you, let’s put it that way. And I think that when push comes to shove, you wouldn’t want to let me, or Jiya, or Rufus—or even Wyatt—walk into something we can’t get out of. Not without you there.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Well you don’t know me. I’m more capable than you think.”

Lucy turned and headed for the cabin door. One… two… three…

She was reaching for the handle when Flynn said, “All right.”

Lucy stopped, smothered her triumphant smile, and turned back to face him. “Yes?”

Flynn glowered at her. “I’ll help you, Lucy.” She liked how he said her name. “But we’re doing this my way.”

Lucy allowed herself the tiniest of smirks.

* * *

When Flynn had found the woman dying of thirst in the desert, he hadn’t expected to ever see her again.

He’d been out riding, trying to lose himself in the wild empty beauty of the landscape, wondering if this would be the time he didn’t come back. Each time he would set out, determined that time would be the last, that he’d just ride and ride until he found a way to disappear, but each time he found himself turning back and returning home before he’d gone past the point of no return.

The woman—Lucy—had been murmuring as he’d rode with her, trying not to jostle her too much. Asking about someone named Amy and asking her mother repeatedly where they were going.

She’d been very trusting as Flynn had bandaged her wounds. He’d tried to ask her who’d done this, who’d shot her and left her for dead, but Lucy had just kept mumbling for Amy. It was only once he’d moved on from the bullet wounds to the sunburn that she’d started to whisper _Rittenhouse, Rittenhouse, Rittenhouse,_ like a mantra, like she had to make sure she didn’t forget the name so she could wipe it from the face of the earth.

Flynn knew all about Rittenhouse. And by the time he’d finished patching her up he knew that if he kept Lucy around, he’d be in danger in a way that had nothing to do with his physical health and everything to do with his heart.

So he’d gently deposited her on the front porch of Mason’s saloon when he knew Jiya was starting to open it up for the day, and left. He’d been certain he’d never see Lucy again.

But now she was at his house, insisting he help her against Rittenhouse, all fire and spit and gumption and Flynn had no clue what to do about it.

“You know their compound,” Lucy was saying, sketching out a map of the area that held all of Rittenhouse’s buildings.

Wyatt glared at Flynn challengingly, as if to say _you said you’d help out, so help out._

Flynn wanted to snap at him that he was surprised Wyatt was there willing to help Lucy, since he hadn’t been willing to help Flynn.

That wasn’t strictly true—the truth was a bit more convoluted than that—but it sure would’ve gotten Wyatt all riled up and that would’ve been worth it.

Instead, Flynn focused on working with Jiya to help Lucy mark up a map of the ranch.

“We can camp in this small canyon,” Jiya said, indicating on the map, “for the night. It’ll give us cover and keep Rittenhouse from seeing us. Then we can get to the ranch by the next evening, strike at night.”

“I’m gonna die,” Rufus mumbled.

“No, you’re not,” everyone else chorused.

“We have everything we need,” Lucy said. “We can leave now.”

“We’ll need to approach from the rear, here, so they don’t see us,” Rufus said. “Avoid their cattle rotation and the guard patrol.”

Flynn raised an eyebrow at him—and he wasn’t the only one. Rufus shrugged. “What? I’m out here all by myself, I know how to avoid trouble.”

“That’ll take you right through my territory,” Jiya said. “Aren’t you lucky you let me come along.”

Flynn suspected from the tone in her voice that initially she was not allowed to come along. Which was idiocy in his mind—Jiya had know-how that none of them did and her presence guaranteed safe passage with any Pawnee they encountered.

“Then let’s head out,” Lucy said, rolling up the newly-drawn map.

Flynn and Wyatt ended up being the ones to check the guns. Flynn worked silently, ignoring Wyatt’s thinly-veiled glares.

“You can’t kill me just by looking at me,” he said at last, spinning the barrel on a handgun.

“You’re hilarious.”

Flynn set the gun down. “You told her not to come to me, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did.” Wyatt shoved his gun into his holster. “I knew—or I thought—you’d turn her away. I didn’t want her to be disappointed. But she’s pinned her goddamn hopes on you for some insane reason. _Marshal_.”

Flynn had in fact been a U.S. Marshal, but he’d retired when Lorena had told him that she was pregnant. “As if you’re not trying to swoop in and be the big damn hero you wish you were. _Deputy_.”

When Jess had been taken, Wyatt had been enraged, blind to logic and reason, ready to storm in there and get himself killed in the process. Denise had managed to hold him back at first, but then Wyatt had gone off on his own only to get fuckin’ lost in the desert and nearly dying before Flynn had found him.

He’d patched Wyatt up over the matter of days, nursing him back to health, and some… something had been there. While Wyatt was weak and his defenses were down, while Flynn was actually helping someone instead of killing, something had been allowed to take root that normally would’ve been cast out as a weed.

But once Wyatt was better, he’d insisted on storming over to Rittenhouse right that second, plans be damned. Flynn had told him—calm down, get your head on straight, and then we can talk about it, we can come up with a plan.

Wyatt hadn’t taken that so well. Things had been said, aspersions cast upon each other’s character, and the fact that certain things had nearly been done, and said, beforehand, only made it all that much worse. Wyatt accused Flynn of being, among other things, bloodthirsty, sociopathic, a coward, and claiming he’d saved Wyatt just to seduce him. Flynn had returned fire by calling Wyatt an idiot, selfish, self-centered, narrow-minded, and told him that if he didn’t get a handle on his temper he was going to kill everyone he loved.

Flynn did regret saying that last part. Wyatt had told him the full truth of how Jess had been lost—they’d had a fight over Jess talking with a man at the saloon where she’d worked with Jiya, where Wyatt had claimed Jess was flirting and Jess had said that being friendly to customers was part of her job. Jess had stormed out into the desert for a walk, and Wyatt had let her.

He’d regretted that decision twenty minutes later, worried about her stepping on a snake or coming across a coyote in the dark, but when he’d gone out—all he’d found was one of her boots, and what looked like blood.

Their house had been on the edge of Rittenhouse land. The math was simple.

Flynn did believe that Wyatt’s temper needed to be curbed, but he also knew it was a step too far for him use that to hurt Wyatt in an argument.

Didn’t matter. Wyatt had told him, _at least I’m not a—_ followed by a few words Flynn didn’t care to repeat, even in his own head, and had then stormed out.

As if Wyatt hadn’t lit up like Christmas every time Flynn had touched him, hadn’t leaned into Flynn, hadn’t followed him around like a puppydog for days.

“Just stay away from her,” Wyatt warned.

“Lucy is a grown woman capable of making her own decisions,” Flynn snapped, at the end of his patience. “Christ, you’d think I’d humped you in your sleep the way you fucking carry on. Austen heroines get more action than you did when you were staying with me.”

Wyatt spluttered like a drowning cat, and Flynn took a step into Wyatt’s space, using his height to his advantage. “Word to the wise, Logan, not everything is about you. Stop thinking about yourself and how wounded you are for two seconds.”

He left Wyatt and his glares and went to go find the rest of his damn ammunition supplies.

If the others noticed the tension between Flynn and Wyatt, they were tactful enough not to say anything as they rode out into the desert. Flynn was a little worried about Lucy—women didn’t always ride on the horses in wagon trains, instead sitting inside their appointed wagon—but she handled the horse well.

“You have a good hand with her,” Flynn noted, when he found himself riding next to her as the sun began to set.

“I was never on a horse before we started west,” Lucy admitted. “It was baptism by fire. But it was just Mother and Amy and me, and I wasn’t going to just sit in the wagon and trust random men with guiding us.”

Flynn couldn’t help but admire her. Lucy wasn’t an expert. Not on gunslinging, not on the west, not on any of it. But she was throwing herself in there wholeheartedly anyway, first for her mother, and now for her sister.

Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because Lucy gave him an odd look and then ducked her head down, smiling self-consciously. “What?”

Flynn shrugged. “You’re a very capable person, that’s all.”

“I’m just someone who refuses to give up, I guess.” Lucy looked away, towards the setting sun. “Everyone thinks Amy is dead. Even Wyatt does. He wants revenge, not a rescue. Jiya and Rufus… I’m not even sure why they’re here.”

“Because Rittenhouse are, when you break it down, bullies. And people… people like Rufus and Jiya, they’ve been bullied, knocked down, looked down on, all their lives. So when someone says they’re going to stand up to those bullies, Rufus and Jiya are all for it. Getting rid of Rittenhouse can only be good, in their eyes, even if they don’t think that you’ll find Amy at the end of it.”

Lucy turned back to face him. “Do you think I will?”

Flynn looked down between his horse’s ears, then back up at her. “I think that you’re right. That if it was just about wanting a warm body, that they would’ve taken you as well, possibly other women. Only taking Amy, and knowing her las name, that means they need her, specifically, for a specific purpose. We have no reason to believe that purpose has been accomplished yet or that they’ll kill her when it’s finished. As far as we know, she’s worth more to them alive.”

Lucy nodded, looking out across the desert. “Sometimes it feels I’m on a wild goose chase.”

“We can save the people we love,” Flynn said, the words sliding out without his permission.

“You couldn’t save yours,” Lucy pointed out. She immediately winced. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

“It’s all right. I—I couldn’t save them, no. I tried to avenge them and I took a lot of Rittenhouse down with me, but… in retaliation they were going after Lifeboat. I think that’s why Jess was taken. And I knew that I couldn’t get them all before they hurt more innocents, so I stopped. Went into hiding. But I liked to think that someday—I would still get the chance to avenge them.” Flynn shrugged. “And then you came. And here we are.”

Lucy looked at him for a long moment. “You don’t think very highly of yourself, do you, Flynn?”

That took him by surprise, startled him into honesty. “What do I have to think highly of?”

“You’re helping us.”

“For the purposes of my own revenge.”

Lucy gave him a shrewd look. “I don’t think that’s the only reason why.”

“I think that you’re trying to find a spot of light in a dark place. A spot of light that doesn’t exist. The things I… the things I did to the Rittenhouse men I killed…”

“The town is full of stories about that, trust me,” Lucy replied dryly. “But I’m not so easily scared by tales of the big bad wolf. And if you were as bad as they said, Wyatt and Rufus wouldn’t have let me go to you—or they would have tried a lot harder to get me to not go to you, anyway. And Jiya wouldn’t see you. She’s a good person, she wouldn’t put up with an asshole.”

Flynn sighed. “Do you know what I would do, if I could somehow get my family back? My wife and my little girl?”

Lucy watched him silently.

“I would make sure they were alive and safe, and then I would walk away. Because how—how could I possibly be a husband, a father, after the things I’ve done?”

“You can be,” Lucy promised. “If that’s what you want to be.”

Flynn wasn’t so sure about that.

* * *

Getting through Pawnee territory and to the canyon so that they could approach Rittenhouse from the rear was definitely going the long way around.

Lucy told herself that it was the right thing to do. They needed to have the element of surprise, they needed to make sure they weren’t ambushed by Rittenhouse, they would have one shot at this and they had to do it right.

But… she couldn’t help fearing that by the time they got to the ranch, it would be too late and Amy would be gone.

They didn’t see any actual Pawnee, except from a distance—Jiya waved, and the others, recognizing her, would wave back. Other than that, there was no one. It was like they were all alone in the world.

“Rittenhouse is just on the other side of canyon mouth,” Jiya told her as they settled in for the night.

“Thank you.” Lucy paused. “You don’t have to stay, you know. Or—go with us into the ranch, you could head back to town or just stay here out of the way. I don’t want you to—you don’t have to risk your life for someone you just met.”

Jiya rolled her eyes. “Lucy, if you think I’m coming all this way just to turn back now, you obviously haven’t been paying attention. I might not be doing this because I lost a wife or because I’m all moony-eyed over you like two idiots I could name, but I’m sick of injustice and I’m sure as hell sick of white people who think they can come into our land and own all of it.”

Lucy didn’t even think about what she was saying—she was just saying it, all of a sudden. “The land can be yours again.”

Jiya stared at her. “What?”

“After we take down Rittenhouse, who’ll want it? Who’ll need it? I don’t want all that. Maybe a little, for a homestead with Amy…”

“Just with Amy?” Jiya asked pointedly, looking over Lucy’s shoulder.

Lucy turned to see Wyatt and Flynn managing to somehow make coffee together while also pointedly ignoring each other.

She turned back. “They’d force me to choose, and I’m not going to be in the middle of that.”

Jiya gave her a look that clearly said _are you really that stupid_ , tilting her head to the side and raising her eyebrows, before sighing. “If you… if you’re serious… I’m sure that Mason would know of a way to get the deeds of land transferred over to my tribe, and to various people in Lifeboat. Denise, for example.”

“Whoever you feel deserves it.” Lucy trusted Jiya.

Jiya looked at her carefully, searchingly, like she was trying to find the loophole. “You know, my mom’s side of the family came from Lebanon,” she said at last. “They came here hoping for a better life. Then she met my father, and she learned that it was just as bad here. The land of the free really means, land of the take whatever you want if you’re white, and male, and who cares who else you have to step on to get there. She doesn’t understand why I choose to live in town, even a town that has such a… diverse population. Sometimes I don’t know why I live in town, either.”

She glanced over at Rufus as she said it, watching him as he sipped his coffee, and then forced her gaze back to Lucy. “But then I meet some people, who remind me it’s worth it to be out in the world. Because the world’s going to come and get us whether we want it to or not.” Jiya tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “I guess what I’m trying to say is—thanks for doing the right thing. I feel like it should be obvious, give the land back, but it’s not, and so—thank you.”

“You’re right. You shouldn’t have to thank me for just doing the… the most basic of decent things. But I’m glad to know—I’m just glad to know that it is the right thing, and that you approve of it.”

Jiya nodded. She glanced over towards Wyatt and Flynn, who were arguing about who was taking first watch. “You know how I met Flynn?”

“No.”

“Through Wyatt. Guy went crazy after Jess died, got his ass lost in the desert, Flynn patched him up. Kept Wyatt at his cabin for a couple weeks until Wyatt could stand on his own two feet again. Flynn used me to send word to town that he had Wyatt so Denise wouldn’t flip out, and after that I just… kept coming back to see him. Make sure he wasn’t going to do something… stupid, to himself. I don’t know what happened in there, I just know that Wyatt was ranting to Rufus when he got back to town. But it was… something. Something happened. Or almost happened, or they wanted to happen, I don’t know. But I don’t think the problem is that they want you to choose. I think the problem is whatever is between them.”

“Well what do you suppose I—” Lucy froze as she saw—

Something. Moving out in the darkness.

“Flynn!” she hissed. “Wyatt! Rufus!”

All three men stopped talking and followed her gaze.

“Honestly, you five are pathetic,” someone—a woman—said. “I could’ve snuck up on all of you and shot you dead before Wyatt got his gun out of his holster.”

Out of the darkness and shadows stepped a tall blonde woman, with a pert nose, flashing dark eyes, and arms to die for, sporting a pale blue shirt and pants, with a pale blue kerchief with pink polka dots tied around her neck. She was, well, gorgeous.

She was also sporting a six shooter.

Wyatt looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Jess?” he whispered.

Lucy’s stomach dropped out. Holy shit.

* * *

Wyatt felt his jaw drop. Jess—but—how—

“Long time no see, honey,” Jess said, her voice sharpening into sarcasm on the last word.

Wyatt staggered to his feet. “But you—you were—I thought—”

“That I was dead? Oh, I’m sure.” Jess holstered her gun. “I wanted it that way. Rittenhouse gave me what you never could: respect.”

Wyatt flushed, his chest burning. “I—look I know I wasn’t perfect—”

Behind him, he heard Flynn cough.

Wyatt felt like his face was on fire. “I was a shit husband, okay, fine, but—Rittenhouse? Really?”

“They gave me a home.” Jess shrugged. “The new leader wanted some more women around to help in her takeover. She got sick of this whole ‘wait for the Prestons’ business.”

“What?” Lucy jumped to her feet. “What are you—the Prestons?”

Flynn strode forward, getting in between Jess, Lucy, and Wyatt. “What are you doing here,” he asked, his voice sharp.

“Let her alone, Flynn,” Wyatt warned.

“No, I’m with him,” Rufus said. “What are you doing, Jess? You turn traitor and now you’re coming out of the dark like some creepy ghost or something? What’s your game?”

“I’m not going to hurt anyone,” Jess said. “I was coming out here to take the long away around to get to town, to get help.”

“Help?” Flynn narrowed his eyes. “Why do you need help?”

Jess sighed and put her hands on her hips. “Look, I was sick of my life, sick of being just a bartender, sick of fighting with Wyatt constantly. I went out on a walk, and I ran into Emma. Emma Whitmore, that’s her name, the new person in charge of Rittenhouse. She was out on a ride to clear her head. We had a talk, about our frustrations, and she offered to fake my death if I would come and help her take over Rittenhouse.

“Apparently they get their money from family. Old family. They smuggled their riches out from Birmingham during the war, and used it to buy up all the land. They want to create a cattle empire. But they’re stuck on the whole family deal. There was supposed to be someone coming, a Carol Preston, she’s the one who legally inherits all this. But Emma killed the guys in charge—with my help—and so she went to kill Carol when she heard Carol was heading west.

“But the way it’s set up, Emma needs the land legally. So she arranged instead to have Carol brought to her and forced to sign the land over in Emma’s name. Turns out, though, Carol’s dead, so the land goes to her daughter. Amy.” Jess took a shaky breath. “And—I’m not excusing what I’ve done, okay? The men I killed for Emma to help her take over, they were bad men. But I wasn’t exactly doing it to make the world a better place.

“But—Amy—you have to help her. Someone has to. She can’t—I can’t—I was supposed to be her babysitter, and things got—out of hand. I—we—”

Jess looked away, agonized, and Wyatt almost laughed at the irony. Jess the caretaker falling for her charge. Wyatt in the same position, only Flynn was the one doing the caretaking.

“You fell for her,” Rufus said.

Jess tried to glare at him, but failed. “Yes.” Her shoulders slumped. “I can’t get her out on my own but I thought, if I got into town and convinced a few people… I could break her out.”

Lucy walked up to her. “So Amy—she’s alive?”

She looked so pale, so hopeful, her mouth trembling. Wyatt’s heart broke for her all over again.

Jess nodded. “She’s alive, and safe. I’ve kept her safe.”

Lucy, to Wyatt’s shock, threw her arms around Jess and hugged her tightly. Jess stumbled, surprised, then gingerly hugged Lucy back.

“Thank you,” Wyatt just barely heard Lucy whisper. “Thank you.”

“Sorry,” Jess said, stepping back in confusion. “Who are you?”

Lucy wiped at her eyes. “I’m Lucy. Lucy Preston. I’m Amy’s older sister.”

“…there are two of you,” Jess said slowly. “Well, fuck, we didn’t know that.”

“No, I imagine not,” Flynn said, his voice sharp as steel. “That’s why you shot her and left her to die.”

“I never said I was a good person,” Jess hissed. “I never said I didn’t do anything wrong. But I want to make it right. You’re here for Amy? Let me help you. I know the guard rotations and everything.”

Flynn, oddly enough, looked at Wyatt. “Are you okay with this?” he asked.

Wyatt could feel everyone’s eyes on him, but Flynn was the person he couldn't look away from. “I…”

Flynn put his hand on Wyatt’s shoulder. Wyatt thought, a little hysterically, that Flynn’s hand fit very well against the curve of it, and wondered if the rest of him and the rest of Flynn would fit together just as well. “It’s okay if you’re not,” he whispered.

Wyatt swallowed. “I’m okay,” he replied. “I was a shit husband. I’m not—I don’t—Jess is fine. I trust her.”

Jess gave Wyatt a look of infinite sadness. “Thank you.”

Wyatt nodded. He didn’t even know how to begin to feel about this. He just—wanted to get this over with. Then he could sort out his feelings—about Jess, about Flynn, about Lucy.

* * *

Jess’s insights were valuable. Flynn could give her that.

On the one hand, he admired Jess. He appreciated that she stood up for herself, that she didn’t take Wyatt’s bullshit, and that she got out of an unhappy situation.

On the other hand, however… she had nearly killed Lucy. She’d helped to kill others. And she hadn’t seen anything against creating an empire that would squeeze out everyone else from the land.

But on the other, other hand—could Flynn really judge anyone, after all that he’d done? After all the Rittenhouse people that he’d killed?

Ironic, though—that Jess’s death had been what had convinced him to stop his murder spree. And now it turned out, she wasn’t dead at all. She was a part of the organization that had killed his wife and child.

Flynn shoved those thoughts away. He’d go mad if he dwelled on them any longer and he needed to be sharp for this raid.

For Wyatt and Lucy, especially.

Rufus was understandably wary, both of Jess and of the whole thing in general. Jiya was determined and a little excited, Flynn thought, to show off her fighting chops. Rufus kept staring at her all starry-eyed as she taught Lucy how to throw knives.

Wyatt, though—Wyatt was wary. Silent. On edge. He and Jess were repeatedly dancing around each other, unsure of one another. And Lucy looked about ready to vibrate out of her own skin with nerves and anticipation.

When it came time to divide them up, Flynn didn’t like the idea of pairing off. He wanted to keep an eye on both of them. But the plan was solid if they moved through as couples. Rufus and Jiya would run the distraction, Jess and Wyatt would provide cover, and Flynn and Lucy would get Amy.

Just before they split off, Flynn grabbed Wyatt by the arm. “Hey. Keep your head on straight, Logan.”

“Could say the same to you,” Wyatt retorted.

God, Flynn really hated how much he liked the guy. “I’m serious, okay? I want you back here in one piece and bitching at me about the coffee.”

Wyatt blinked a few times, startled, then nodded. “I—all right. You, um, look after yourself.”

Flynn nodded, and turned to walk away. “Fl—Garcia?”

He turned back.

Wyatt looked like he was being strangled. “I didn’t mean it. What I said. All those things.”

Flynn opened his mouth, realized this wasn’t the time, then nodded. “We’ll talk. Afterwards.”

Wyatt nodded, and Flynn watched as Lucy went up to him, hugging him tightly before slipping off to join Flynn.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

Lucy nodded grimly, patting her gun. “More than.”

They were about to either come out the other end victorious, or die like Butch and Sundance.

Well. He’d had a good run. And he was with the woman he’d… well.

There were worse ways to go.

* * *

It all went to shit almost immediately.

Wyatt tried to lay down a suppressing fire but somehow Rufus and Jiya got jumped so they were rushing into the fray, firing behind them—and wow Jiya was kicking the everloving _shit_ out of that guy—and somehow Lucy and Flynn ended up in the middle of it.

“Fuck.” Wyatt emerged from his cover, firing, trying to create a path for Lucy and Flynn. “Jess…”

“Yeah, I see it.” Jess reloaded her gun. “Listen, I know this place. I know Lucy wanted to get to Amy but I can get there, I have a clear path.”

“The whole reason you weren’t supposed to get her is we don’t trust you!”

“Do you have any other choice?” Jess snapped. She pointed out into the dark. “The person firing behind that hay barrel, that’s Emma. Red hair. Get her down and don’t let her near Lucy.”

“And how do I know you’ll keep your word?”

“For fuck’s sake, Wyatt!” Jess bellowed. “This is the fucking saloon job all over again! You don’t _know_ anything! You don’t know that I won’t take Amy and run, you don’t know that I won’t flirt with the customers, you don’t know if you’ll get a heart attack and die tomorrow! You just have to fucking _trust_ me!”

For a moment, Wyatt couldn’t hear the guns going off, or the bullets whizzing. It was like nothing existed but himself and Jess.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “You’re right. I—I’m sorry. I trust you. You’re not—you can make your own decisions.”

“That was all I wanted. To be my own person. For you to stop—having a stranglehold on me.” Jess’s eyes were wet as she reached out and squeezed Wyatt’s arm. “I don’t love you anymore. Not like I did. But I don’t—I’m not angry. I just wanted—to be free.”

Wyatt nodded. “I’m not mad you love Amy, by the way. Just thought. I should make that clear. You can be with her.”

Jess nodded, letting go of him. “Do better with them than you did with me.”

Wyatt blinked in surprise. “There’s no—them? What?”

Jess was already gone.

Wyatt heard a yell behind him, and remembered that technically he was in the middle of a battle.

He stood up, firing, saw the redheaded woman that Jess pointed out—Lucy was still trying to get to Amy, still trying to run across despite all the danger—

Flynn’s head jerked to the side as he caught sight of another person. He fired, his gaze away from Lucy—

Lucy ducked her head down and ran, and Flynn couldn’t see, couldn’t stop her…

Wyatt ran towards her. “Lucy!”

Oh, fuck.

Emma’s head snapped up, hearing the name, her eyes falling on Lucy. She raised her gun—

Wyatt dove, fire exploding in his stomach, landing hard on the ground.

Lucy screamed, everything roared in his ears, and the blackness rose up to meet him like a gaping monster, swallowing him whole.

* * *

Amy jerked to her feet as the door was unlocked, ready for a fight. She could only dimly hear the gunfire being exchanged but she doubted it signaled anything good.

The door was flung open, and Jess darted in.

Amy nearly collapsed in relief. “Jess—”

“Don’t worry darlin’,” Jess told her, grabbing her by the wrist. “This is a rescue operation.”

Amy grabbed Jess right back as Jess led her out of the room—the tiny, stupid little room that she’d been stuck in for weeks, only let outside for an hour a day to stretch her legs, all under Jess’s careful supervision.

Not just Jess, though. Emma Whitmore was never far, and Amy—Amy hated that woman. Emma gave her shivers, like someone was walking across her grave.

“Who all’s here?” Amy whispered as Jess led her through the ranch house, gun at the ready.

“Your sister,” Jess said.

Amy stopped dead, her eyes immediately filling with tears. “Lucy—Lucy’s alive?”

The last she’d seen of Lucy was her sister getting hit with two bullets and falling into the dirt, unmoving.

“She’s a stubborn one,” Jess promised. “Fought all the way through the desert to find you.”

She pulled Amy in and hugged her tightly as Amy’s throat got tight and her chest heaved. This whole time she hadn’t cried, she’d held it together—but now, with freedom and her sister so close, she was crumbling.

Jess kissed her hair. “It’s all right. I’ve got you. You’re going to be safe.”

Amy clung to her, her nails digging into Jess’s shoulder blades. “I’ve always felt safe with you.”

Jess made a sound close to a sob, and held her even tighter.

* * *

Fuck, fuck, Wyatt was down, she didn’t know how badly hit, she couldn’t see Amy, it was all a mess—

“Lucy, look out!”

She was yanked out of the way as a bullet went whizzing right by her, and she heard the person behind her grunting in pain. She turned and was met with a solid chest, she inhaled, smelled…

Leather and coffee.

Lucy stumbled back, took in the blood spreading across Flynn’s shoulder from the bullet wound—the black boots, the solid chest, the—

“It’s you,” she whispered. “You’re him. You were the person who saved me.”

Surprise, dismay, and resignation all flashed across Flynn’s face in rapid succession. He grabbed her and yanked her behind him as more bullets flew, firing back.

There was no return fire. He’d gotten them.

Except for one.

Lucy saw a flash of red hair, and oh no. Fuck no. That woman had taken her sister, had shot the man—one of the men—she loved, she was not fucking doing this.

She tore herself away from Flynn and dashed after Emma, firing, dodging through the animals and bales of hay and all the rest until she entered the dimness of one of the stables—

There was an audible _crack_ as she was cold-clocked across the face by Emma, who’d been waiting in the shadows. “You meager little whelp,” Emma snarled. She grabbed Lucy by the hair and yanked her down, hitting her again.

Lucy clawed viciously at her, swung at her, but Emma threw her to the ground and climbed on top of her. _Wham_. Another punch, right to Lucy’s mouth. “You’re going to die out here,” Emma hissed. “Inheriting what’s _mine_ , what I worked for—!”

Whatever else Emma was going to say, she never finished.

A bullet in the head took care of that.

Emma fell to the side and Lucy could only stare, her chest heaving, tears starting to leak out the corners of her eyes, disbelieving.

“Lucy!” Flynn dashed to her, lifting her up into his arms, cradling her. “Lucy, hey, hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

“Flynn.” She pressed her forehead to his, a sob wracking her. “She—she—”

“I know, I know, it’s all right. Wyatt’s safe, he’s going to be okay, Jess has Amy, it’s all okay, I’ve got you, it’s all okay.”

He held her tightly to his chest, rocking her, until Lucy could breathe normally again, her sobs subsiding. Ordinarily she’d feel ashamed for crying but not around Flynn. It seemed okay, to her, to break down around him.

“It was you,” she whispered.

Flynn winced. “I was hoping you wouldn’t figure it out.”

She reached up, fingertips feeling out the curve of his jaw. “Why?”

“I couldn’t… handle it, if you knew. You’d look at me like… I told you, Lucy, I’m a monster. I couldn’t stand you looking at me and seeing good when I knew that good was a lie.”

“You’re not a monster.” She slid her hand down to the hollow of his throat, feeling his pulse underneath her fingers. “You just wanted to get back the people you lost. Just like Wyatt. Just like me.”

She turned her face, slowly inching it up, until their lips were almost but not quite brushing. Flynn inhaled sharply, his large hand reaching up to brush her hair back out of her face. “Lucy…”

She kissed him, very softly, barely even a kiss. The briefest of meetings.

Flynn stared at her, his eyes two open chasms of longing.

Lucy lingered on the next kiss. And then lingered a little more on the next. And she would have kept kissing him, kept lingering, except Flynn made a small noise of pain and she remembered his shoulder—he’d been holding her that whole time.

She helped him up, and they walked out to join the others.

Wyatt was slumped up against the wall of the ranch house, Rufus and Jiya working on him. “Oh, not you too,” Jiya said.

“Mine’s through and through,” Flynn said. “Not as bad. He’s the one we need to worry about. If you can wrap me up, I can patch him.”

“Where’s Amy?” Lucy asked, leading Flynn to them and then crouching down to squeeze Wyatt’s hand.

“Inside, with Jess, they were doing something in the office,” Rufus answered.

Lucy didn’t know what to call this… thing between her, and Wyatt, and Flynn. All she knew was how Flynn and Wyatt looked at each other when they thought the other one wasn’t looking, and how soft and giddy Wyatt made her feel, and how safe and breathless Flynn made her feel.

She braced herself on one hand and leaned in, softly kissing Wyatt. “I’ll be inside with Amy.”

Lucy let go of Wyatt’s hand and stood up, looking at Flynn. “Don’t bleed out.”

“We’ll do our best.”

She slid her hand over his chest, squeezed his shoulder, and then slipped away to let them do their thing.

The look on Rufus and Jiya’s faces were priceless.

Inside, Amy and Jess were indeed in the office, going over some papers. “Did you find it?" Lucy asked.

Amy waved some documents in her hand. “Yup, it’s all detailed in here. The land is bequeathed to Carol Preston or, in the case of her death, her descendants.”

“These letters only mention you,” Jess said, looking down at various files she was going through. “I don’t think Amy had been born yet.”

“That would explain why they took only her and not me,” Lucy said. “Amy looks more like Mother than I do, and if they thought there was only one daughter…”

Amy set the papers down. “You know what this means, Luce. All of this is really yours.”

Lucy felt a bit faint all of a sudden and sank into the chair in front of the desk. “I don’t know what to do with a ranch.”

Amy smirked. “I know two men who know exactly what to do with one.”

Lucy looked at Jess.

Jess shrugged. “I made my choice, and my choice is Amy. Getting a divorce might not be possible but who even cares what it says on a piece of paper? If Wyatt chooses you, and I choose Amy, then that’s what matters. What we live, not what’s written on some document.”

Amy made an _aww_ noise and scooted over on the desk to kiss Jess on the cheek. Jess rolled her eyes, but her face got pink.

“I have a ranch,” Lucy echoed.

“Yes, dear,” Jess told her, laughing. “You have a ranch.”

How about that.

* * *

Through teamwork, Flynn, Rufus, and Jiya got Wyatt into a clean bed in the ranch house. Jiya quickly patched up Flynn’s shoulder, and then went to talk to Lucy while Rufus tended to the horses.

Wyatt was silent and still, for once, as Flynn worked, not complaining or bitching or moaning or generally doing any of the things he did around Flynn.

It was disconcerting.

“I never thought I’d say this,” Flynn said, “but I almost want you to complain to me about something I’m doing.”

Wyatt huffed out a laugh, trying not to move as Flynn diligently worked on sewing his guts back into his body. Flynn tried not to think too hard about that. “Yeah, didn’t… y’know.”

“Very eloquent.”

In the other room there came a shriek from Jiya, and something about ‘dividing up the land’. Flynn suspected that Lucy was doing something about dividing up her newly-inherited land for the people of Lifeboat, since she certainly didn’t want or need all of it.

Wyatt was silent for another minute, then said quietly, “I thought I was gonna die.”

Flynn grabbed some more cloth to wipe away the excess blood and keep working. “You’re not out of the woods yet, we have to make sure you’re not infected.”

Wyatt grinned weakly. “Okay, but, no, I mean—I really thought—I wasn’t gonna make it and that I wasn’t gonna ever see Lucy again. Or you.”

Flynn focused on his work, trying not to let his hands shake. “Mm?”

“After Jess—you tried to reach out to me and I was a dick. And I—you kept trying and I kept pushing you away and it wasn’t just because… it was also because I felt like shit for wanting a man and for wanting anyone after Jess died. Or I thought she died.”

Flynn finished up his work and did some last work to clean up the wound.

Wyatt caught his hand as he tried to pull away. “I know how you look at Lucy. And I—I know how she looks at you. And if you just want to be the two of you—but if you still—if you could—I want to be, what you wanted us to be. Before. I want—you, I’ve wanted you—I’m sorry.”

The poor man was floundering, and probably would’ve kept floundering unless Flynn threw him a lifeline.

Flynn took the hand that Wyatt had used to grab him, and raised it up to his lips, kissing it.

Wyatt stuttered to a halt. His chest fluttered with rapid, shallow breaths.

Flynn leaned in further, kissing Wyatt on the sternum, then the hollow of his throat, and then finally on the corner of his mouth.

“Apology accepted,” Flynn promised. “And yes. I still. And I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but Lucy’s not playing favorites either.”

Wyatt gave him a watery grin. “If anyone asks, I didn’t tear up.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, partner.”

* * *

“I have to get back,” Jiya said, swinging up onto her horse. “But Denise will love to hear that you’re dividing up the land.”

“We’ll see you when Wyatt and Flynn are healed,” Lucy promised. “Jess and Amy and I have a lot of work to do to clean this place up.”

“And Rufus?” Jiya asked hopefully.

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you ask him?”

Jiya rolled her eyes. “If he doesn’t know how I feel by now, that’s not my fault. And you of all people are not allowed to judge me.”

…fair enough.

But Lucy was going to see if she couldn’t, when they were all healed and able to actually get back into town again, do something about this nonsense.

* * *

“So, we did it,” Wyatt said as they tied up their horses in front of the saloon. “We saved the day, we got the girl, in various meanings of the term, and everything’s taken care of, right? Any loose ends I’m forgetting?”

“There is one,” Flynn noted.

“What?”

Lucy and Flynn exchanged a look, then glanced over at Rufus, who was taking a rather long time tying up his horse. “Oh, just a matter of asking two men I know if they want to be ranch hands,” Lucy said lightly.

Flynn swallowed. It wouldn’t… be easy, to adjust from being alone, to living with people again. To officially let go of his grief and his self-imposed exile and allow himself to be happy again.

But he wanted to try.

Wyatt went up to run a hand through his hair, forgetting both his stitches and the hat still on his head, and succeeded in only grunting in pain and nearly knocking his hat off his head. “Um… You—you sure Lucy?”

“Well I can’t run it by myself. I don’t know the first thing about it. But you both do. So what do you way?” Lucy smirked at them. “Want to live in sin with me?”

Wyatt’s face went bright red. Flynn wanted to kiss her so badly he could hardly stand it. “I’m in if you are, Logan.”

“If you’re in, then I have to be in, don’t I?” Wyatt replied, his face still red but his gaze steady as he looked up into Flynn’s eyes.

Before Flynn could do something stupid, like wildly kiss either or both of them, Lucy turned and looked into the saloon. “I see Jiya’s gotten back into the swing of things nicely.”

Her voice was a touch loud, and Flynn glanced over to see Rufus had finally given up on pretending to still be fiddling with the knot of his horse’s harness.

“She was a real asset out there,” Flynn said. “Couldn’t have done it without her.”

Lucy elbowed Wyatt, who seemed to finally catch on to what was happening, and said, “Yeah, and she sure as hell didn’t do it just for us. I mean, of course she did, because Jiya’s the kind of person who does the right thing, but… I bet a certain someone going with us helped her decision making.”

Rufus sighed. “You’re all super obvious, you know that, right?”

Lucy, Wyatt, and Flynn all put on their best innocent faces.

Rufus glared at them, then took off his hat. “Here goes nothing.”

He strode into the saloon.

Flynn hurried to follow him, Lucy and Wyatt right on his tail—as Rufus walked right up to Jiya at the bar. “Jiya?”

“Yes?”

Rufus wrapped an arm around her waist. “If you punch me for this, that’s totally okay.”

He got his free hand between her shoulder blades and dipped her, kissing her.

Jiya didn’t punch him—far from it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him right back.

Wyatt wolf whistled. Lucy and Flynn simultaneously elbowed him. Didn’t matter, though. The whole saloon was whooping and hollering. Mason looked like it was the proudest moment of his life and announced a free round for everyone.

Rufus gently brought Jiya back up to standing and pulled away, their arms still around each other. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Jiya replied, laughing. “I’ve been waiting for you to do that.”

“Well, hey, it only took me nearly dying and getting in a shoot-out with a bunch of evil ranchers so, y’know, no big deal.” Rufus caught the three of them looking and rolled his eyes at them.

Flynn winked. Wyatt gave them a thumbs-up, and Lucy laughed and waved, unashamed.

Then she turned, holding out her arms. “Gentlemen?”

“Ma’am,” Wyatt said, taking one arm.

Flynn took her other arm. “Lucy.” He looked at Wyatt over Lucy’s head, grinning even harder when he caught Wyatt’s eye and Wyatt blushed.

They walked arm in arm, the three of them, out into the sunshine.


End file.
